Making My Way Back To You
by CastielKicksAss
Summary: Sequel to Adore: They made it out of limbo, but is anything ever that easy? Eames/Arthur


I own nothing!

This is the sequel to Adore that I told some people that I would do; I hope you're all still interested! I also hope it's on par with Adore, takes place _right_ after it so I hope you enjoy!

And here we go…

**

* * *

**

Making my way back to you

He's been in this room since he woke up a week and a half ago. It's not a bad room; king sized bed, huge bathroom, big screen television and a kitchen. There are worse places to be trapped in he assumes. Sitting on the large bed he flips through one of the many magazines he's been brought until he hears keys opening the door.

Eames slides through the barely open door eyes immediately going to the bed to make sure there is a significant distance between them before turning and locking the door. Every person that has come to visit him does the same thing.

At first that set him on edge, but after a few days it became obvious that they weren't going to hurt him. They only ever brought necessities and from what he gathered from their earlier conversations when they were questioning him, nothing that he owned. Ever. Yusuf seemed to think anything could influence him into becoming a different person.

He can't help but agree to that considering he can't remember his own name.

"How are you today, love?" Eames asks with a smile.

They never call him any name; they call him "friend" or leave a question hanging meaning it was directed at him on the rare occasions they all visit at once. But not Eames. Eames calls him "darling" or "love" along with many other terms of endearment. He can't help but like Eames.

"Same as yesterday and the day before that, and tomorrow? Probably more of the same," Is his dry response.

He can't help but be bitter, being trapped in this room wearing sweat pants and a t-shirt. It feels off, like they don't fit him right.

"I'm sorry darling, I know you don't like being stuck in here all the time. It's for your safety though, I swear. Nothing but that would allow me to see you so unhappy." Eames says with a tight, sad smile on his face.

"…so what did you bring me?" he asks with a smile. He can't stay mad at Eames, especially when he seems so sincere.

"Sit back and relax my dear because I have a grand meal planned to go with this perfect bottle of wine, guaranteed to cure all your problems." Eames says with a wink before unloading the bags.

He gets up from the bed and makes his way into the small kitchen watching Eames as be sets about cooking. This is their nightly routine; Eames is the only one that ever visits him at night. The other take turns, Ariadne or Yusuf in the morning with breakfast, Cobb and on rare occasions Saito at noon with lunch. And always without fail, Eames with dinner.

Eames pushes up the sleeves of his button down shirt and he catches a tattooed name on the inside of his wrist,

"Who's Arthur?" he asks before he can stop himself.

Eames pauses and looks at him with a blank expression. A few moments pass, the silence is deafening. He considers apologizing, but before he can Eames' shoulders relax and a tight smile spread across his face.

"He's the love of my life, darling. Always has been, always will be." A touch of fondness creeps into his tone.

"Doesn't he mind that you spend so much time here?" he can't imagine anyone being that understanding considering Eames has been sleeping on the couch every night since he was placed in this room.

"No darling, he had to go away for a little while, but he'll be back." The confidence in his voice leaves no room for argument.

They stare at each other for a few moments and at the looks in Eames' eyes he can't help but feel he's missed something. Then his stomach growls. Eames cracks a small, tender smile at the blush covering his cheeks before returning his attention to preparing the food.

* * *

It takes a few days to gather his courage to ask about Arthur. Whenever he started to he would get an odd feeling in his stomach, an ache. He likes Eames, Eames is handsome, charming and makes him feel safe, but he belongs to another. Life is rarely fair.

They're sitting on the small couch Eames has made his own for the past two weeks. At first he was hesitant to sit on it with Eames considering it was an equivalent to his bed, but the second night Eames sensed his mood and looked up at him with a warm smile,

"Darling, you can always come sit with me you know?"

"You don't mind? You look busy." Was his quiet reply. Eames threw the folder he was looking at down onto the small coffee table,

"Never too busy for you love, what's on your mind?"

And that's how they started this nightly ritual. He looks over and Eames is playing with a die in his hand, rolling it between thumb and forefinger. He's seen him do this many times, almost every night.

"What's the story behind that?" He can't help but ask.

Eames snaps his attention back from wherever it ran off to and looks at him. Then a wicked grin spreads across his face, he hasn't seen that in a while.

"It's Arthurs; he was using it to ensure he won a game when we first met." Eames says with a laugh.

"He was cheating?" Probably not the best response considering Arthur is a little higher up in Eames' list of priorities that him.

"Well he was just out of college you see and he needed the money to pay them. Unfortunately the men he was trying to trick were not so easily fooled, Arthur had never done that before anyway. But, _fortunately_ for Arthur I knew who they were and when he was found out I stepped in and told them I was teaching Arthur, trying to get him into the life."

"Did that work? What did you do then, teach him?" Eames laughs

"They did believe it, just laughed and said I have my work cut out for me. After that I took Arthur to a diner and in return for my trouble he had to tell me what he thought he was doing. He told me about his money problems, I made him swear to me that he wouldn't try gambling again and walked him to his apartment. Two days later I dropped off the money he needed."

He doesn't know what to say. It couldn't have been a small amount of money; even he knows college isn't cheap. Why would Eames do that for a complete stranger? He asks and Eames looks at him, his eyes seem to sweep and caress as they slide across his face and down his body. The look is so tender and adoring that he has to look away.

"Well darling, he was the most beautiful creature I had and will ever see. Trust me when I say that means something."

* * *

It's been four day since they last talked about Arthur. He's sure that were he to ask Eames would answer all his questions but he can't help but feel angry whenever Arthur is mentioned. It's obvious that Eames has an immeasurable depth of love for the man but, where is he? How could he just walk away from a relationship like that? He has to know why.

"Is he worth all of this? What you're going through?" It comes out as a demand for answers.

Eames' hand stop scratching out whatever details it was writing for a job he has coming up and looks at him. A deep, sad, disbelieving laugh issues from his throat. He can't help but feel on the outside of some joke. Then the humor slides away and Eames looks at him with steel like determination.

"Oh yes love, he's more than worth it. There's no place else I'd rather be."

"Arthur sounds like a lot of trouble…why not look at this as a way out? You wouldn't have to worry about all of his problems anymore, why stay?" he says with a growl.

Eames sighs and it hitches in his throat, "Because love, we've been together so long I don't know how to work without him."

When Eames looks back at his papers he feels…not really dismissed but, like the conversation has gone as far as it can. As far as Eames can stomach.

He walks back to his bed.

* * *

He's searching through all of the drawers, there's not much else to do. With a small hesitation he kneels in front of the dresser Eames has put his meager belongings in. Hovering indecisively he thinks about all that Eames has done for him, it's true he might have developed a small crush on the man. Had the quickening of his heart beat not given him away, the anger whenever his wayward lover is mentioned would certainly seal the deal.

Throwing caution to the wind he yanks on the drawer. No luck, it's locked. Grabbing a paperclip from the coffee table he unleashes the lock…huh, he can pick a lock, go figure. The contents look like personal belongings; mementoes. A small book with pockets for the poker chips it holds and a message written in clear, precise penmanship, "_For you love.-Arthur"_ Eames does seem to like gambling, he has tried to teach him before, but Eames always seems to win effortlessly. The next is a small, velvet box that holds diamond cufflinks with, _"To my Darling-Eames"_. So he called Arthur darling as well? He starts to feel sick as he realizes these mementoes are of their lives together. Pictures and ticket stubs, small notes and unexpectedly, a glass rose. But there it is, that damn die. Picking it up he rolls it around in his hand, the weight oddly comforting. Tossing it onto the surface of the drawer a flash of a die landing on the three runs through his head. Only to be mimicked by the die sliding to a halt on the dresser.

A jingle of keys shoots adrenaline through his body. The door swings open just as he slams the drawer shut.

"Hello darling, today any better?" Eames looks like hell. He has a bruise forming below his eye and a cut that looks to be working on infection.

"What the hell happened to you?" He can't stop the panic from entering his voice. Is this why he's in here? Did this happen because of him?

"Just a tussle dear nothing to worry about. Now, how was your day? Do you need me to bring you anything tomorrow?"

And just like that it's back to being about him. Did Eames become this way because of Arthur? How can he possibly think so little of himself? The bruising runs down the side of Eames' neck and he would bet there is more under his clothes, maybe even worse injuries.

"Maybe I should look at-"

Eames comes over to him and puts his hands on either side of his face, the touch is beyond warm.

"Love, I am fine. I promise there is nothing for you to worry about, okay?" Looking into Eames' eyes he can tell that even if there is a problem Eames will _make_ it so there is nothing for him to worry about.

* * *

After an awkward breakfast with Ariadne where she stares at him while looking like she wants to cry he goes back to the drawer which has been locked again. A paperclip later and he's back to snooping. There has to be something in this drawer that makes Arthur worth all of the trouble Eames is going through by staying here. He can tell that remaining in one spot is making Eames restless and jumpy, like he's waiting for someone to come charging in the door at any moment and try to kill them. A gun is constantly by his side, windows are checked and rechecked and he has do answer to every, "_alright, darling?"_ that comes his way every five minutes.

An open envelope pokes its way from the back of the draw, the letter is written in neat, precise script.

_Eames-_

_I can't do this anymore, I'm sorry._

_-Arthur_

His mind freezes as he struggles to take in what he just read. Arthur left Eames, permanently. Not like he was going on a trip, but trying to put as much distance between them as possible. Why was Eames still waiting for him to come back? It's obvious that he has read the letter, so why? Keys, once again, open the door. He's expecting Cobb or Saito, but is unprepared for Eames to walk in and reach for a file before freezing.

"What are you doing in there?" No "darling" follows Eames' words and he instantly knows that he did something horribly wrong, he's not supposed to look in this drawer. But the anger he feels over Eames allowing himself to be treaded in such a way overrides his fear.

"Discovering that Arthur is _not_ coming back and you _know_ that, but here you are! Why Eames? This is it, cut him loose why you still can!"

Eames' face grows stone cold before he grabs the letter from his hands and throws it into the draw, closing it with a _slam_.

"I will not, I cannot accept that. You will not get back into this drawer, you will mind your own damn business and don't you _fucking_ dare try to leave this room! Do you hear me?"

The door slams behind Eames and he can hear the lock slide into place. It's the first time he's felt like a prisoner in weeks.

* * *

They don't talk for two days after that. Eames won't meet his eyes and seems to have buried himself in his work. Unable to take the silence anymore he walks to the couch and stares at Eames until he looks at him,

"Are we ever going to talk again? I know I shouldn't have gone through the drawer, I just don't understand the blind, unyielding faith you have in a man that hasn't contacted you in a month."

With a sigh Eames drops the papers onto the table before rubbing his eyes, when they look at him they're bloodshot with light circles underneath them.

"I'm sorry darling; I shouldn't have treated you like I did. It's no excuse, but some people may be getting close to our location and its put me on edge. As for Arthur, yes I read that letter. But, I will wait here for him to make his way back to me, which he will. I can't accept anything else."

"You really think you know him so well that you can say with the _upmost confidence_ that he'll come back?"

A soft laugh issues from Eames as he pulls him by the hand down onto the couch.

"Yes darling, I know he has a fleck of green in his left eye. His favorite color is red, air fresheners in a car give him a headache, there isn't one type of music he wouldn't give a chance. He wears expensive suits because of what he had to wear growing up; it gives him confidence and almost shields him you see? He joined the army, Special Forces, _after_ college and is one of the best marksmen I have ever seen. And finally, the most important, I know he loves me just as much as I love him. That is why he'll come back."

* * *

Sitting back in bed the day after they made up he is thumbing through a book when he hears movement at the door. Waiting to see who it is this time, a frown creases his forehead when it takes so long for the lock to give. Jumping up he shuts off the lights and crouches behind the sofa before he can think. Someone was picking the lock he realizes, that's why it took so long.

"Check the bathroom." A voice sounds after a pause.

Two figures move around the room, one moving to the bathroom and he takes the opportunity to bring the other down with a kick to his knee, a _snap_ sounds as the bone gives before he has the stranger in a head lock waiting for unconsciousness to take hold. Hearing the commotion the second man walks back into the room and flips on the light. He runs at the stranger and his body seems to work on auto pilot as it delivers blow after vicious blow to the shocked intruder. With a kick he sends the stranger into the hallway before bringing him down with a quick uppercut to the jaw. Footsteps sound down the hallway as another man walks around the corner wielding a gun. He runs in the opposite direction as bullets start to light up the narrow hall.

A window appears and somehow he knows it's his best bet. Increasing his speed he's through the glass and falling down, down into the bushes below. Rolling with the impact he's up and running before anyone on the street can make out where the crash came from.

* * *

It looks like Eames was right; someone is trying to kill him. For the past five hours he has been running, jumping and fighting like he's been doing it his entire life. Why would they keep the fact that he _could_ defend himself a secret? Wouldn't that make things easier? He doesn't know, what he _does_ know it that he needs to find Eames. Considering the time he's probably back at the hotel. Not the smartest thing to do, going back their but he doesn't have a choice.

Once he's slowly made his way up the three sets of stairs, he comes to the room and sees the door open still. A sound of despair echoes down the hallway, entering the room he sees Eames throwing all of the drawer contents into a bag before running a hand through his mussed hair. When he turns toward him he can see the tear tracks on his cheeks. They both stand there looking at each other before Eames lets out a choked sound and throws the bag before grabbing him in a bone crushing hug.

"I thought they…God…" Eames plants little kisses in his face and runs his fingers through his hair. He seems desperate to touch him so he stays still.

"I'm fine Eames; in fact I'm a lot better than that. Did you know I'm actually pretty good at this 'being chased by killers' thing?"

A smile crosses Eames' face before an insistent _beep, beep, beep _sounds then…

Boom.

* * *

When he wakes he feels his stiff muscles let out protests, but then he remembers the bomb and he's up despite his screaming bones. He looks at his bedside and sees nothing, flinging back the covers to go in search of Eames his hand comes in contact with a body lying next to him. There is Eames with fresh cuts and bruises on his face looking at him, he goes to open his mouth but is cut off as a kiss is planted on his mouth.

"Say my name. Right now, just say it."

"Arthur…you're my Arthur." Eames says with a small hint of desperation in his eyes, he wants his partner back.

"I wrote you that letter the first time you got hurt because of our relationship. I lasted two weeks before I came back and damn near begged you to take me. You gave me my loaded die, you had my name tattooed on your wrist that same night I got shot in your place, and you still haven't forgiven yourself for that. And I know you love me as much as I love you."

Eames sighs as a smile stretches across his face, "Yes love, I know. I remember all of it."

He pulls in Arthur for a kiss before whispering, "Where have you been?"

With a passionate kiss that leaves them both breathless Arthur responds, "Where I always am, making my way back to you."

* * *

A/N:

Hope you all enjoyed! Went to a wedding yesterday and it brought the sap in me back to life lol Reviews feed the muse monster!


End file.
